Second Chances
by rixi
Summary: Giles Willow and Buffy go to Scotland to stop these three witches who think they're the ones from Macbeth. But help has already been sent in the form of a blonde...
1. Chapter One: Childish Antics

Author: rixi

Title: Second Chances

Summary: Giles, Willow and Buffy head to Scotland to after they hear about three witches causing havoc wherever they go. However, help has already been sent, someone who seems a little too familiar to Willow. 

Disclaimer: I own only the warped imagination that creates the stories by me.

Distribution/Feedback: rixi_87@hotmail.com

Pairing: Tara/other Tara/Willow Buffy/other Giles/other

Authors Note: Willow and Tara had the same relationship on the show, but Willow didn't realise her feelings toward her so she chose Oz.

****

Chapter **One** – **Childish** **Antics**

Willow looked out of the window with pure awe. She had never seen anything as beautiful as this place before. It was magnificent. The sun was shining down, which Giles said was a rarity, and the water glistened as the beams hit it. She had watched 'Loch Ness' with intense curiosity for the first ten minutes before searching for the monster got boring. She glanced at the mountains and the rocks, with fascination. The smile faded from her face as Oz suddenly burst his way into her head.

"He would have loved it here." She mumbled as she grazed the window of the Jeep with her fingertips. 

She didn't go unheard by Giles, and he took a glance at her before returning his eyes to the road. A smile tugged at his lips, and he turned his neck to show he was paying attention.

"I'm sure he would have, Willow." The redhead snapped to face Giles when he spoke; surprised that he heard. "Oz would have come if it-" 

"Hadn't been the full moon, I know." She pouted as she looked up at him, "But he still would've loved it."

The ex-watcher chuckled, "I'm sure he would have."

The Jeep jostled, bouncing the three occupants inside left and right. The Slayer grumbled as she tried to stabilise herself by grabbing the door. "What's up with the roads? Haven't British people heard of asphalt?"

"I believe they call it tarmac here, and the Scots are a little behind the times I'm afraid." Giles said as he tried in vain to miss the potholes in the road. He mumbled under his breath, "Bloody scenic route."

Buffy quirked an eyebrow at her watcher as, she too, tried to settle herself in the car. "Says the man who wanted to take the 'bloody scenic route.'" She mocked her watcher and received a glare via the rear view mirror. She just laughed at him. She suddenly pouted as looked at the two in front of her, 

"Why did I have to sit in the back?"

Giles didn't even bother to look in the mirror as he regarded her sternly, "Because you are the child." He glanced in the mirror and smirked, letting her know he was joking with her. She pulled a face at him before gently slapping Willow on the head.

"Hey! I never said anything!" She twisted round to frown at Buffy, who just poked her tongue out.

"Exactly." She mocked a hurt expression; "My best friend and you didn't even stick up for me." She gave Willow her best puppy dog eyes and Willow rolled her eyes as she turned back round and looked at Giles.

With a bored tone she said, "Giles that's not fair." A mischievous glint gleamed in her eyes; "She hasn't got her dunce cap on." She ducked before Buffy could smack her on the head again and giggled uncontrollably when Buffy poked her from both sides.

"You're so gonna get it."

"Stop it. Stop!"

The two squealing girls continued, and Giles rubbed his temple with his gear hand. "Bloody teenagers."

**

The blonde girl spun from left to right; the fog was impenetrable. She could barely see her hand in front of her face, but the voices were as clear as day. The voices were terrifying her: she'd never been in the presence of something that could chill her soul with just its voice.

"Look left, look right, the burning of fire heats you heart each night. The passion inside will be renewed by a feud, to conceal thou's fear for thine heart."

She frowned at the riddles. _What the hell did that mean? _She didn't understand why people didn't just say what they meant; life would be so much easier if they did that. 

There were three voices, all female, all laced with malice and amusement. She continued to look for them, futile though it was, she wasn't able to give up. She'd travelled a long way to stop these witches from their evil ways; she wasn't about to stop because she was scared. 

The mist seemed to thicken, _if that's even possible_ and Tara couldn't seem to thin it out.

_ "Caligo calautica abscedere a me   
__Clarus hinc caligo dum perubique ad videre   
__Abludo vomica mactus bracatus   
__Aspicio dum tibi voluntas nunquam posse_."

It didn't work, she couldn't see anything still. Her heart rate seemed to pick up with every single second that she stood in the fog. The voices kept repeating their riddle and it seemed to sting her ears with every syllable. She clutched her head as the world began to spin and spin and spin. Her vision became impaired, the lights were dimming and her feet felt like they weren't touching the ground. 

Her body continued to twist throughout the air, over and over, round and round, until there was nothing. Blackness.

*

Tara's eyes were heavy, and it was a task just trying to open them. Her head was resting on something hard and moist. 

She pushed herself up slowly and shakily: unwilling to find out what the consequences were for sitting up too fast. Though, she had a sneaky suspicion it could end up with her falling straight back down. She gingerly touched her head, wincing and pulling back immediately when her flesh connected. Her hazy eyes saw a taint of red on her fingers, and she groaned. _Another hat day._

Ever since she'd joined the coven in San Ardo, she'd been to dozens of exotic places, trying to stop evil witches. And every time she fought she banged her head. _The hotels of the world probably compare notes; 'Oh yeah, that bald girl. Always wears those funny hats, I think you've got her next…_

She was surprised she could even put two thoughts together, let alone let her imagination run riot like that.

Tara shook it off and gradually began to stand, pulling a rainbow-coloured tropic-bin hat out of her bag and gently placing it on her head, making sure not to put too much pressure on the wound. She glanced around, noticing, with annoyance, that the mist had gone. 

"Why does it always happen when I'm unconscious?" She brushed herself off and began to hobble back to her car where Sarah was waiting for her: wincing every time she moved her head the wrong way. 

*

Sarah had her arms folded, her fingers tapping on her skin. Every few seconds she would glance at her watch: her impatience getting the better of her. 

She didn't understand why the coven insisted on just the two witches on each mission. There were reasons; she understood this. After all, they were a small coven and they needed a reasonable sized group back at San Ardo in-case something happened: but, they still needed more than two on missions away from home.

Sarah had to stay at the car every mission she and Tara had embarked on. It only bothered her because of how close she and the blonde had recently become. Their friendship had blossomed, but Sarah knew Tara wasn't hers. She knew that the blonde was still pining for the girl she'd left college because of; it didn't bother her though. The longer Tara that was with her and not the other girl, the more she would become hers. The one thing that bugged her was how she wasn't allowed to go with Tara and make sure she was okay in case she got lost. For some reason, the locating spell wouldn't work on inanimate objects.

She glanced at the path Tara had wandered up, and sighed in relief when she saw the blonde stagger towards her. 

*

The first thing Tara saw was brown flapping hair coming towards her. It took a couple of seconds before it registered whom it was that was dashing at her. A pair of arms tightly wrapped themselves around her body, and she gently reciprocated.

Sarah kept Tara in her arms, but pulled away far enough to look into her eyes. "You've been gone for ages." There was a hint of accusation in her voice, but all Tara had to look was looking into the brunette's eyes to see that she was worried about her. 

"Sorry, I kinda fell asleep." She looked hopefully into Sarah's eyes, a quirk of her eyebrow though and Tara dropped her gaze.

"You fell asleep?" Her voice was saturated in sarcasm, "Tara, I've known you for how long now? I know that when you come back with a hat on your head means you got knocked out. Which is happening a lot lately." She gently made patterns on the base of Tara's back. "You're alright though, right?"

Tara smiled shyly and carefully nodded her head. "Y-yeah. I'm, I'm fine."

Sarah nodded once firmly. "Good." She dropped her arms from Tara's back and hesitated before taking Tara's hand. When she squeezed it she looked at Tara with a mix of hope and authority. "Let's get you back to the room and sort out that head of yours then."

Tara let herself be led back to the car and back to their hotel. She allowed Sarah to see to her head and she nodded along politely as Sarah spoke, but her thoughts were still stuck on the same thing they had been since she saw coloured hair rush toward her. 

Sarah was great; bubbly and funny, but she wasn't Willow. No one was.

TBC


	2. Chapter Two: Familiar Unkown

Authors Note: I have used the word 'lovely' in this chapter in a non-sarcastic way, and it pained me. It's extremely corny and I would be grateful if it was never mentioned in public or mentioned at all in the future. Thank you. 

****

Chapter Two: Familiar **Unknown**

There was a giant chandelier in the centre of the foyer, fake through and through, but it was pretty enough. The wallpaper was new, the smell of paste thick in the air. It was classic hotel paper; not too plain but not too classy, with pictures of local scenery framed in elegant brass picture-frames. 

The carpet was a rich, deep blue. Hard and worn under Willow's feet, but it looked good, and for a foyer, she assumed, that was all that mattered. 

She and Buffy were three feet from Giles as he waited for their room keys, chatting quietly with each other. Their conversation revolved around their better halves back in Sunny Dale. The term 'their' is a loose one, as it was Buffy who was doing the talking, and Willow just doing the polite nod-along thing. She made the right sounds at the right times, but she wasn't paying much attention. After half a year of hearing nothing but Riley, she pretty much heard it all. She liked the guy, he was kinda-hearted and protective of Buffy; and she knew he wasn't going to break her heart intentionally, but that didn't mean she wanted to hear about him constantly. 

When she caught a glimpse of Buffy turn her face away as she talked, Willow stole a glance at Giles to see him rubbing his head. He looked tired; exhausted if she wanted to use a phrase that would be closer to home. The jet lag was getting to them all, and they had all agreed to get to Fort William on the first night: none of them wanting to stick around longer than they had to. 

At least, Willow assumed it was the jet lag that was getting to her, although it didn't seem to be getting to Buffy at all. Maybe it was because she was a Slayer, but there was something off about this place. It could just be the evil magic that was supposed to be around here, but the air felt thicker, warmer somehow. She actually thought if she held out her hand, it would be like putting her hand into warm water, only thicker than water: pudding perhaps, only a nicer experience. Willow wasn't sure; it was raining outside, so it wasn't humid. She remembered a feeling like this before, when Oz had left her. However, there was no way that this could be related; Tara wasn't evil. Although she had no idea where Tara was, but she highly doubted that the blonde would be here.

She snapped herself out of those thoughts, thoughts she hadn't had since the girl had left.

"So, what do you think I should do?" Buffy's voice cut off all thoughts that were confusing the red-haired girl; it also confused Willow, as Buffy's voice seemed to be sombre. She found herself desperately trying to remember what Buffy had been saying, when, thankfully, Giles rescued her from her dilemma. 

"Buffy, you and Willow will be sharing room," He glanced at the pair of keys in his hand, "Ninety four I believe, and I will be opposite you in room ninety three." He handed the Slayer a key, and she stifled a giggle before glancing back at him. 

She held the key up in front of his face and wiggled it slightly; "You got a secret fantasy Giles?"

Both Willow and Giles peered at the key dancing in front of them, ninety-three. Giles blushed furiously as he snatched the key from Buffy's fingers, whilst Willow tried and failed to conceal her laughter.

"'Cause I gotta say, ew." She smirked at him as the redness in his cheeks stretched to the tip of his ears. Giles recovered quickly though, and completely deadpan, he returned,

"Don't worry Buffy, whilst you are very attractive, I prefer the older woman." He smirked as the colour drained from Buffy's face, "As you know."

He didn't directly mention the incident from the previous year, but Buffy knew exactly what he was referring to and had to force down the urge to vomit at the thought of Giles and her… mother. She shuddered: that wasn't the pleasantest of thoughts. And now, 

"Ew! Images!" She scrunched up her face and ran behind Willow, crouching in a manner that screamed 'protect me'. Willow was oblivious. The Slayer hadn't divulged the information with the other Scoobies, mainly to save her from her own embarrassment, but also because she knew that Xander would never give Giles a break about it.

Willow just thought Buffy was having images of Giles and another person; which, granted, wasn't the nicest of images to have in one's head. Her memory flashed back to when she remarked about him and Jenny, and how you could just imagine them together. They'd all turned down the offer, as had she herself. A flash of sadness enveloped her as she remembered the techno-pagan. 

The shift in her demeanour was noticeable, but only Giles noticed. His teasing tone left and he gently placed a fatherly hand on Willow's shoulder, "What's wrong Willow?"

She glanced up into his eyes, all soft and hazel. She shook of her grief and smiled, "Nothing. Just yucky thoughts." She grinned and grabbed the other key, checking for the right number, "So, ninety-four?"

The watcher fixed Willow with a questioning gaze, but left it and nodded at her, a warm smile crossing his face. "As I'm told."

She grinned and grabbed Buffy's arm before prancing up the stairs. Giles watched the two girls and smiled before slowly following them: wondering how he managed to get two surrogate daughters as lovely as they were. 

**

An annoying beeping sound was coming from Tara's left, resulting in many bangs onto a wooden table before she hit something plastic. The beeping stopped and she smiled slightly as she felt herself being pulled into the black pit of sleep. The last of her soul was letting go of reality as she heard a voice that yanked her back to it. 

She groaned very much outwardly as she grabbed her pillow and forced it over her head. 

"Err, hello? When you turn off the alarm, it means you gotta get up." Sarah smirked as she watched Tara wriggle further into her covers. Her toothbrush was branded as a weapon but she just stuck it between her teeth and grabbed the covers, and wrenched them off of the curled up blonde. 

Tara shivered as the cold air rushed to envelop her: making her skin tingle in the wrong sort of way. She mumbled something incoherent under her breath that Sarah didn't quite catch. The brunette ignored it, and dropped the duvet to the floor before going back to the bathroom.

The blonde peeked her eyes open to find the curtains wide open and the light from outside glaring into her eyes. She fought to keep her eyes open and rolled off of the bed. Rubbing her eyes, she glanced at the digital clock, nine am. She groaned again. _And I thought early mornings would finish with school._

As she stood, she felt a wrenching on heart making her turn towards the door: a feeling too familiar to be real pulled her round until she was facing the bathroom again. A frown marred her features, as she killed her hopes once again. There was no chance it was Willow. Willow was happy in Sunny Dale: with Oz. She sighed, and pushed that feeling back under everything inside of her. She had Sarah, someone who wanted her, someone who wasn't going to run off back to their ex if they turned up. Her brow deepened, _I really need to brush my teeth._

She moseyed towards the bathroom and her breath caught as she opened the door. Sarah may not be Willow, but she was certainly something. Tara drank in her appearance; a short blue tank top that didn't cover her midriff, and baby blue pyjama bottoms resting gently on her slender hips. She was a form to take in. 

Tara had been slightly taken aback at first, when Sarah started trying to take their relationship further – she was surprised when Sarah had tried to become friends. She wasn't used to the attention of other people, except Willow. She had been surprised with the attention Willow had given her but it wasn't the same kind of surprise as it was with Sarah. It had taken a while to stop thinking about Willow constantly, she still thought of the redhead often, but not every single minute: and she supposed that this was a good thing. Everyone told her it was a good thing, but she didn't really believe it. Willow, to her, was what breath was to the world: needed. And Sarah… wasn't. Tara didn't think Sarah would ever become needed like Willow was - is. At least, not yet anyway: not for a long time.

Sarah caught sight of Tara in the mirror, and washed out the foam from her mouth before facing the blonde and placing her arms around her waist. 

"Hey, you got out of bed then." A smirk pulled at her lips as she squeezed Tara's side.

Tara smiled nervously, keenly aware of where Sarah's hands were. Her breath caught slightly before she spoke, "Yeah."

Sarah hesitated before resting her own head against Tara's and placing a soft kiss on her lips. It was soft, quick, but it seemed to last for a long time. There was such love and warmth in the kiss that Tara almost lost herself in it. It wasn't how she imagined a kiss with Willow to have been, but it was nice. 

Sarah sighed contentedly as she pulled Tara closer to her before pulling away slightly; unwilling to scare the blonde. 

"So, when are we out tonight?"

Tara took a deep breath, the bump on her head still throbbing slightly from the day before. "I'm not sure, it's, it's gonna b-be a bit tricky trying t-to find them again."

Sarah nodded, "Hm, I guess." She pulled away to splash her face with water. She picked up one of the white fluffy towels and patted her face dry. She couldn't help the disappointment that flooded her being. She had hoped that Tara would realise she didn't mean the mission. She wanted to do something, anything with the blonde, apart from fighting witches. She wanted to get close to Tara, to have her feelings reciprocated; even if in the tiniest of ways. Sarah shook off those feelings and thoughts; it would come eventually. She drew a deep breath, plastered a fake smile on her face and turned to face Tara again.

Chucking the towel back on the rail, she said, "Well, we could always try that spell again, it wouldn't be too tricky that way would it?" 

Tara nodded, completely oblivious to the inner turmoil her companion was going through, "Yeah, they m-m-might've cloaked, but th-there's nothing to l-lose." 

The brunette smiled, leaving the two of them in an uneasy silence. They both just stood there, a few steps between them, in complete silence. It was Sarah that broke it, unable to stand the tension between them for another moment; afraid that it was the kiss that had sparked the strain. 

"Right, I'm gonna," She started walking towards the door, using her hands to get across her meaning. 

The door closed gently, leaving Tara alone in the bathroom; pondering on what was going on with herself and Sarah, and why, every thought that started with Sarah, ended with Willow.

**

In the next room, Willow and Buffy were debating on whether to unpack or not. Neither girls thought that they would be in Scotland for long, and they had a return flight for the end of the weekend; so Giles obviously didn't think this was going to be a difficult job. 

Buffy wanted to unpack - her loathing for ironing far greater than her hate for packing. Willow on the other hand, thought it best to leave their clothes in the bags and take them out when they needed them. They decided to do both, and put some clothes in the wardrobe and leave some in the bag. 

Ever since setting foot in the hotel, Willow had felt like a magnet was pulling at her. She had stopped at room ninety-two and had desperately wanted to go into it, but she had no idea why. Now, she was feeling a need to go into the bathroom, the feeling seemed to be coming from there. She started towards the bathroom, catching Buffy's attention.

"What's up Will?"

The redhead turned to face Buffy with a dazed look on her face. "Toilet." She went turned back to the bathroom, and shut the door behind her. 

She had been right, the sensation was a lot stronger in the bathroom. It was enchanting, and strange. After all, how could a feeling captivate her in such a way? She felt her hand travel up to the wall and flatten against the cool tiles. What was happening? Her body's reaction to this feeling was so much more powerful than anything she'd ever experienced before. It was like magic. 

There was a loud bang on the door, that only semi brought her out of her trance. The voice that wafted through the door was muffled, not by the wood, but by the mood she had found herself in.

"Hey Will, Giles wants to take a look around the town. You wanna come?" 

She looked at the mirror as she made a positive answer; she appeared far-away; distant to herself: as if she was looking into another dimension and it wasn't really herself that she was looking at. 

As the three Americans stepped into light rain, Willow couldn't help but think of the sensation she had got when in the hotel. It was lessening with every step away from it, but it was still there. They stepped under the covering that stopped the rainfall for about 3oo hundred yards and Willow took a glance back at the hotel. The area around it seemed to be pulsating, throbbing: but it wasn't evil. She could sense this now; it had nothing to do with why they were here. Yet, there was magic in that building, and, deep down inside of her, she knew what magic was there.

**

Their hideout wasn't typical of three evil witches'. As hard as they had tried to mimic everything 'The Weird Sisters' were about; a lair was just too hard to do. They were situated in a small forest fifteen miles from Fort William. The rain was pelting down and the younger two of the three were hovering about the other, desperate to go home and out of the wet.

"Come on Keri, it's absolutely pissing down!" The youngest half-shouted, her dark brown hair appearing black from the wet. At 5ft3 she was shorter than the others, a gothic aura around her but by no means gothic in appearance. Her cloak now off, revealed clingy jeans and a baggy hooded-sweatshirt that flaunted her figure; completely drenched from the heavy rain. At fifteen she was the youngest of the trio but not by much: her sixteenth birthday rapidly approaching. 

Keri, the leader of the three, ignored them and settled into a hollow base of a tree, perfectly sheltered from the rain, before pulling out a packet of 'Lambert & Butler' cigarettes. Lighting up, she focused her attention on the girl that called to her. Her dyed brown hair barely touched by the rain, and her own figure accentuated by the 'popular girl' clothes she wore. 

"Really? I hadn't noticed." Her return was completely deadpan, and she then blanked the younger one and offered a cigarette to the other, who graciously accepted. 

This girl was taller than them all, and only a few months younger than Keri. Her hair was honey-blonde, but when wet, a deep brown. She lit the smoke and took a deep draw as she looked at her watch, "I dunno about you two, but I have to be at work in twenty minutes, and it takes thirty to get home."

"Chris, relax, we'll just teleport you and Kirsty home." Keri said as she blew the smoke from her lungs.

Kirsty took a step forward, "What about you?" Her voice betrayed all she was feeling inside, it reeked of confidence and of self-assurance and arrogance– which was not what she was feeling inside. 

Keri rolled her eyes at the young one; "I'm staying at Rachel's again tonight. Me mammy is gonna pick me up tomorrow."

Christine flicked her soaked cigarette away and grabbed Kirsty's arm, before facing Keri. "Can we do this please? I don't want to be late for work again."

Keri groaned before chucking a brief incantation at the two of them. She watched their pitiful shivering appearances fade away before brushing herself off as she stood. It was quite dark considering the early hour. She flicked her own cigarette away and forced her cloak into her bag before pulling her deodorant out. After ridding herself of the smoke-smell, she began the small trek to Rachel's house. 

A small smile flittered over her face, _everything was going to plan._

TBC…

Authors Note (2): Hey, The names Keri, Kirsty and Chris(tine) are the names of a few of my mates but the character are nothing like my mates and the names were used 'cause I was too lazy to come up with different ones. Cheers. ~rixi~ 


	3. Chapter Three: Close, but Not Close Enou...

Authors Note: Right, so, third chapter. Wow, I actually made it to the third chapter. I think I've amazed myself. Now let's see if I can write it. 

****

Chapter Three: Close, but Not Close Enough

Her carpet was a mixture of black and hot pink squares: her curtains exactly the same. In fact, everything in her bedroom was a mixture of hot pink and black. A hard dance tune was thumping out of her stereo; vibrating through her chest, stopping her from feeling the beating of her heart. She liked that though, the lack of a heartbeat. Keri wasn't stupid; she knew what was out in the world – she knew there were things out there that were only supposed to exist in fairytales. And she wanted to be one. 

However, magic was the only part of the supernatural world she had been able to get a hand in. Keri couldn't find a vampire in Fort William: and considering the supposed 'suicide' rate, she found this highly surprising. There were countless unexplained deaths in Fort William, all with neck wounds but no vampires to be found. 

She never used to believe in anything like magic or demons; Keri thought it all to be someone's crazy nightmare that became a fad, like bell-bottoms. The only reason she began to believe is because her best friend Lauren was avid that it all existed: because Lauren had shown her magic.

For three months, Lauren had taught Keri everything she had known: spells, telekinesis, history, and had brought her into a coven. It hadn't taken Keri long to overshadow all of the witches in the coven, surprising each of them: especially Lauren. Keri didn't much care about the three-fold rule or any of the sorts of thing the coven insisted upon doing. As far as she was concerned, magic was there to help her reach her goals – and to knock down anyone who got in her way. 

Keri felt her stomach clench as she remembered walking with Lauren in the forest, talking about starting their own coven, one without rules. It had been dark; it was always dark when they walked. Neither of them was particularly keen on the sun. At the time she didn't know what it was the came out of the shadows, with it's face all twisted and mutated. Only when it pierced Lauren's neck, and sucked at it like it was desperately trying to give her a hickey, did she realise what it was. Only then did she come out of her shock and terror to snatch two snapped branches from the ground and hold them together in a cross. Hoping it would work.

Either it was full, or it just didn't care much for Keri, as the vampire dropped the body to the ground and stalked off. Keri had seen enough though, she knew more than Lauren had told her about the world. She walked over to the corpse that lay on the dirt and simply stared. Remembering the gasp of pain, the weak sounding 'no' she had muttered as that creature had bitten into her, and all Keri could feel was hate. A hate that would soon turn to anger and contempt for anything and everything left on this planet.

As she leant back against her pillow, she remembered the vampire. The eyes were amber in colour, more like a piece of red-hot kindling than the traditional yellow-y brown she had read about. It had to be undoubtedly male, from the short brown hair, and build of his frame. The nose too far jutted out for him to have been any kind of cute. A burn scar of a cross, deeply embedded under his left ear – a smirk appeared on her face as she thought of the agony he must of felt when some victim had pushed the symbol into his flesh. She imagined it would be a pleasant sound to hear his cold skin sizzle. 

Keri had searched for him. She had repeatedly gone back to the same spot every day and night hoping to catch some sign that he had been there again. She held the coven there, thinking that many bodies would bring out a vampire, even if it weren't the one that had murdered her friend. Yet nothing had turned up. Seven months, and sixteen days and nothing had come up. To say she was bitter would have been an understatement. 

A loud beeping tune interrupted Keri's train of thought from getting any deeper. She reached over for it, flipping it over to see the caller tag. 

"Kirsty, great." She mumbled as she pushed the answer button reluctantly.

"What?" Her voice showed all traces of annoyance that she was feeling. Kirsty wasn't her favourite person in the world, she preferred Christine to her, but they came as a package. As much as it rattled her, it was a good thing, Christine wasn't half the witch that Kirsty was, and they could only afford one floater. Keri knew she was good, but she wasn't that good.

"You're late." Came the muffled reply, just as annoyed Keri, the elder could tell Kirsty hated having to phone her as much as she hated being phoned. She glanced at the clock and saw that she'd been marinating in her bitterness for a little longer than she had thought. It was half two. Kirsty was right, she was half an hour late.

Instead of apologising, she forced her hand, "So?" Keri knew Kirsty well enough to know that she could give as well as she took, but she also knew that Kirsty feared Keri's powers despite being good enough to take Keri down. The elder was just glad she hadn't figured that out yet.

She smirked as she heard the intake of breath, she knew Kirsty had just bitten back a comment, "Well, if you ain't going to turn up, I've got plenty of homework I could be doing." 

The smirk was replaced with a scowl. She knew if she wasn't there soon, Kirsty would go home, and their days' plan would be put off until another day. Christine was easier to control, and she again cursed the fact that they came as one. 

"I'll be there when I can, just keep put."

"Well, I can't-" Keri cut her off before she could finish her sentence. Keri knew what she was going to say. They had had the same conversation too many times for it to speed her up. She reached for her shoes, and shoved her feet into them. Taking the short luxury to look into the mirror, and flatting the back of her hair with her palm, she shot out of her home giving her mother the simple, "I'm going out," before slamming the door behind her. As she stepped out of her council house, she noted with annoyance that it was yet again raining and she hadn't brought her jacket with her. 

** 

Giles leant back in the chair as he put the napkin back on the table. He had missed a British cuisine, and though it wasn't English, it was still better than the American food he was used to. He took a sip of his tea, and sighed in contentment, you just couldn't beat British tea.

He glanced around, and saw families enjoying their lunch, chatting and laughing, and felt a pang in his heart. He could have had that. It was something he hadn't dared have in case he was killed in line of duty. Unlike his father, he wasn't the type of man to risk leaving a family without its provider. Yet, now, as he looked at the picture perfect families, it was something he desperately wished he had. If Jenny hadn't of died, then maybe… He shook that off. There was no point going down that road, trudging up old resentments towards a man who had no control over what he was doing. 

Giles tried to focus himself on the task at hand, but as he continued to look around the room, he found himself missing his home, which was closer than it had been in nearly five years. He found himself thinking of their last encounter in Sunny Dale, the First Slayer. He remembered knowing that he was useless. Buffy hadn't needed his help in defeating that foe, it didn't help that she had only needed a man with a lot of demonic and language knowledge, which if you looked in the right places, wasn't hard to find. She didn't need him to research, Willow, Xander and the others more than willing to help. Except maybe Anya. He was just the extra thumb. One more person for her to think about whilst fighting, one more distraction. _A distraction that could get her killed, _he thought grimly.

He looked up at the entrance and smiled, his two girls had just walked in, laughing gently as the chatted. Buffy took a glance around the room, and flashed him a grin when she saw him. He sighed, the weight on his heart lifted. He didn't need to long for a family. He had one. 

As they sat down, immediately a waitress came over. Giles noted that it was the same blonde girl that had served him, mainly due to the nametag 'Christine' and not the face, and he also saw that she looked quite nervous as she glanced again at her watch. He frowned in curiosity - _that has been the third time in as many minutes that she's checked the time_. She looked flustered, even though Giles knew this was her only table. 

"Can I get you anything?" Her tone was pleasant enough, and there was a sunny smile on her face despite the weather, but it was all fake. Giles knew she wanted to get out of this place as quickly as possible.

Buffy took a glance at Willow, "Coffee?" The red head nodded, "Just two coffee's thanks." She smiled, once again checking with Willow that that was all she wanted. She watched as the girl quickly jotted it down, still fascinated that she had once been able to write that quickly and still make it legible. If she did it now, it would probably just be squiggles and dots. 

The blonde turned her smile at Giles, "And anything else for you sir?" He would have liked another tea, but the look in her eyes were pleading with him to say no, they would go elsewhere. 

He smiled sympathetically at the girl and shook his head, "No thank you, in fact, cancel that order." He gave Buffy a look that dared her to argue, "We have business to attend to this afternoon."

The sigh of relief he heard made his smile even larger and he was quite impressed that she managed to catch herself, "Are you sure?"

He nodded with a relaxing smile and he saw the words 'thanks' mimed with her lips. As she walked off and handed her piny to another, he heard Buffy mutter, "I wanted that coffee."

He gave her a patient look, "We can get coffee elsewhere I'm sure. The girl obviously had somewhere to be." He stood and waited for his company to do the same. 

They stepped into the rain and again he heard Buffy mutter. 

"God, has this place even seen the sun?" He heard Willow give a curt reply; both obviously unimpressed with the wetness of their surroundings. Giles was actually quite happy to see it; living in California had dried him out. It seemed the food wasn't the only thing he had missed from Britain.

He walked through the rain to the covering with a luxury, allowing himself to enjoy the feel of the rain. Childishly tilting his head back, and opening his mouth to let the rain fill his mouth. 

Buffy watched as her Watcher, with his hands in his pockets; walking casually, enjoyed his settings. She realised he looked so much more relaxed here than he ever did in Sunny Dale. He fitted in with the area, not completely but more than they did. She wondered how much he missed it here. He had never talked about returning to England, but it must have crossed his mind a few times when he had been fired, and the library burnt. She would hate it if he left her alone. She was the only real father she had ever known, her natural one not worth the air he breathed. 

As she watched him, her eye caught the same girl who had been their brief 'waitress'. She held a jacket over her head and was running to the covering that they were unhurriedly walking to. Buffy's brow furrowed when she saw the girl meet with two others, _Giles let her go so she could meet up with her buddies?! When does he let me skip training so I can meet up with Willow and Xander?_

Buffy was too immersed in her annoyance to see the berating the shorter girl gave the blonde. She didn't see the less-than-gentle push she received in the direction the three began to walk, and she missed the small jet of blue that made the girl gasp in shock. Giles was too busy drinking the rain to see, and Willow. Willow was still confused to the strength of the pull that kept trying to bring her back to the hotel; room ninety-two. 

**

Tara and Sarah walked into the foyer just as Buffy and Willow followed Giles out of it. The blonde was sure she just saw a flash of red hair leave, but brushed it off due to lack of sleep…or too much of it. Despite the feeling that she should follow the flash of red she saw she followed the brunette into the restaurant and sat at the empty table near the middle of the room. An empty tea cup and plate still on it. 

Sarah made an 'euch' of disgust at the plate and flicked her hand in the air. Tara cringed in embarrassment as Sarah complained about the state of the table. She could see the boy rush to apologise and clean the table; Tara heard him mutter a girl name under his breath in annoyance and offered him a weak smile, which he returned with a blush. 

Once the table was cleared and the boy had gone, Sarah sat down and Tara whispered over at her, "You didn't have to do that." 

Sarah tossed her an amused look, "No, I shouldn't _have_ to." She leant in a little and tried to show Tara her point of view, "It is his job to clear these tables, you know." Tara nodded,

"I know, but the place is kinda b-busy. Maybe he hadn't g-got round to it yet." She saw Sarah raise and eyebrow and added, "There are other tables we could have sat at." 

Sarah shrugged, "You sat here, I assumed you wanted to." 

Tara sat back in surprise, she hadn't realised she had chosen the table. Now she thought of it, she remembered that familiar feeling pulling her towards this table. She suddenly got angry with herself. A stupid feeling was yet again making her do things she wouldn't normally do. How could she have so little self-control?

The same feeling that had kept her leant against the far wall for most of the day had been the one that had made her sit at this table. There was something strangely comforting about it all, but she wished it wasn't. It was too familiar, and too painful to make her want to stay with it for long, but stay with it is just what she wanted to do. They ordered and finished, and Tara did not want to leave the table. It felt like her very life depended on staying at that table: with that feeling. Which is why she stood, and left it. She knew. Tara knew what was going on, she was dead certain that the flash of red had been Willow. After thinking about for an hour, she realised, and if Willow were actually there, then Tara would avoid her until they left. _There's no way I'm going down_ that _road again_.

They reached the stairs, Tara walking several paces ahead of Sarah. The brunette couldn't figure it out; sometimes they were in a perfect little bubble, and other times, they were trapped in it with nothing to say or do. The strain between them had intensified in just a day – Tara was always preoccupied with something. She had been wandering around in a daze, and Sarah had begun to wonder whether that last encounter with the witches had affected her more than she was letting on. Sarah just stood watching Tara for a while at the bottom of the stairs, looking at, but not seeing her. The wall had grown, and she knew she wasn't going to be able to break it down. A deep sigh released itself from her lungs as she began to slowly trudge up the stairs after the blonde. 

Some random cave plucked from obscurity… 

He heard a scuffling come from his right and grimaced, this wasn't what he was used to. All these critters roaming around in his – he hesitated to use the word 'home', but at the moment, that was what it was. _Home_, he thought bitterly as he glanced around the near abyss like black. This wasn't what he wanted, but the witches seemed determined to keep him from his forest. He would just kill them, if the power didn't reek from them. Fort William had once been Vampire Territory, a few other varieties of the supernatural would pop up every once in a while, but it had never been taken from the vampires. Until he killed the small blonde. He twisted his head, and saw her sleeping peacefully with a fawn.

A smile painted his features; she was beautiful – arrogant and selfish, but beautiful all the same. He didn't regret turning her, she made an excellent partner in hunting, but he knew he could have chosen more wisely. This girl had been a witch, like the ones keeping them from the forest, and she had friends who cared for her more deeply than either of them had expected. 

He knew they were trying to draw him out, trying to kill him, and for six months, he thought cockily, they had failed. Yet with each passing night, he grew more and more annoyed that thy refused to desist. He had thought after a week they would grow bored, or scared, and move to another place, thinking the forest a cold scent. But he had been mistaken. They hadn't move on, and he had begun to doubt that they ever would. He wanted to kill them, turn them and show them what they had been fighting against: but their power made him wary. He wasn't scared, _frightened of humans? Please!_ He just wasn't stupid. He knew exactly what they were capable of and he wouldn't fight that until he was ready to, and if that meant staying in gloomy, dank caves, then he would. No matter how much it icked him out to sit on slime.

He wandered over to the sleeping Lauren, and laid down beside her: kicking the fawn mercilessly out of the way. She muttered something as her eyes tweaked open, "Why you do that Daniel?"

He shrugged as she snuggled into his chest, "It was in my way," They both watched as the fawn fled from the cave, and once it disappeared she grumbled,

"That was my appetiser."

TBC…

Authors Note: So, only took me like three weeks huh? Must be a record or something. Right, so, you were obviously expecting the end bit just not so quick. I like to get the supernatural elements out of the way so I can focus on the people, and you're thinking, why not write an AU fic. Which is a valid point but I don't think it's quite the same without all the vampire-y stuff. Anyway I will try to update again soon, as I have found my interest in this piece rise a good few notches in the last few days. In fact, this chapter was basically written in two days, it just took me two weeks to get round to doing it. Rambling… anyway, thanks for reading.

~rixi~


	4. Chapter Four: Energised Bunnies

Authors Note: Don't ask about the title, it was something that popped into my head. And I guess the characters are kinda busy. Erm, so, I said 'soon' in the last chapter… and well, it's been over a month - I'm so very sorry. I have been more into writing poetry at the moment than stories and everything is suffering because of it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I was stuck writing it J 

****

Chapter Four: Energised Bunnies

His flamed hair was gently tugged backward as the wind sailed through the dark skies. He could smell the fragrant of cut grass nearby, a little late for mowing your lawn, but he didn't care. He liked the smell. His senses told him that Xander and Anya were a little closer than they were meant to be, and that they weren't looking for vampires. Spike was to his right, tensed, but not fighting. He was relieved. A full on vamp-fest was not what he was after whilst Buffy was in Scotland and Riley was AWOL. 

His string-roughened fingers were coiled round the splintered stake he held, and he was ready for any vampire that thought about crossing his path. Except maybe Spike or Angel – the latter was highly unlikely. Yet, the lack of activity made his mind wander. He remembered a time when he would have envisioned himself practising a new chord, and he would sometimes but not often, his thoughts were mainly consumed of Willow. Oz let his eyelids slip shut as he recalled the feel of her hair sliding through his fingers, the silky shine that somehow locked itself in his memory. The way it would move when she walked, the many smells it had because of how often she would change her shampoo. He could remember each fragrance perfectly. She had been using an apple-scented one when they had first met, green apple: which was replaced with peach when she cut her hair: the next, a mint-y one. Every-time he thought of the aroma, it attacked his nostrils, making them flare with anticipation. He missed her.

Suddenly his eyes flashed open; maybe it hadn't been the smells that had caused his anticipation. He perked his ears; a vampire was watching him. He continued walking, trying to keep a calm exterior to draw the vampire out; only using his eyes to look around. From what his wolf senses were telling him, the vamp was in front of him, maybe two or three meters slightly to his right. He frowned - Spike should have him. It then came to his attention that he couldn't sense Spike, Anya or Xander. _Shit._ If this vampire had taken out all three of them, he didn't stand a chance unless he morphed; but he didn't have complete control of his wolf yet and he didn't want to risk running around in a blind wolfy rage. The second thing that hit him, was if the vampire had killed Anya and Xander, how would Willow feel. Oz was meant to be protecting them, he was the only one (other than Spike, but he was hardly trustworthy) that had any supernatural powers. Sure, he was an untamed werewolf, but he still had more of a chance of survival than the others. His worry for the others soon evaporated as he saw the leaves rustle about.

His grip on the stake tightened as he watched the vampire walk in front of him, a smirk plastered on its twisted and demonic face. A raw anger rose in him, as he thought of his friends lying either injured or dead because of that creature - he felt his hands lengthen. He grit his elongated teeth as he tried to force the wolf back inside, but he stopped. It stopped. Oz looked down at his half-wolf hands in amazement. _I'm half a werewolf, I'm still in control._ He realised that he could keep half of his wolf out, and half of it hidden, and still hold some control over his actions. 

Oz let out a quiet moan as he let his hands and brow grow, hair sprouting in uncomfortable places – stopping only when he felt his eyesight get hazy. It seemed that the vampire hadn't been expecting a half-man half-wolf, as its mouth widened and it took a couple of steps back. Oz snarled at him before leaping the distance to land painfully on top of it. 

The stake was left where he had stood as his paws were no longer able to hang onto it, but the mixture of punches and scratches were doing the job well enough. Each fist collided sharply with the vampires' face, each nail slicing deeply through the frosty skin. He grabbed the head of the vamp, trying to ignore the sickly greasy feel of its hair and thwacked its' head back against the hard ground. He watched as its' eyes glazed over, pulled his claws out and thrust them into its' throat. Surprisingly, he didn't feel disgusted as the blood sprayed out of the vampires' neck, coating his face and clothes in blood that looked like liquid onyx in the moonlight. 

He wiggled his claws about in the ground - having thrust too hard and punctured the mud. A deep, rumbling sigh escape his canine throat as he felt his fingers find freedom from the slick grip of the mud. He yanked his hand from the cold, and bloody neck; enjoying the carnage that lay beneath his warped bulk. 

Oz found himself smirking at the writhing mess on the grass. A feeling of power washed over him as he looked at the agony written on the vampires' face. He could do anything - he could toy with this creature for hours before putting an end to its' inconsequential life. He could claw thick trails of crimson down its' skin, and bite trench holes into its' arms. Oz felt his body convulse again, the wolf was gaining control of the small power he had clung to. He quickly forced his paws to wrench the vamp's head from its torn neck, and tried to ignore the feeling of satisfaction as he watched its remains explode into dust. 

He stood and tensed as he forced the rest of the wolf back inside; each second of the transformation a powerful tribulation he hadn't known he could cope with. _Maybe, it would have been easier to fight as human._ His stomach lurched as the scent of blood invaded his senses. Fighting the urge to vomit, Oz rid himself of his shirt using the inside of it to wipe most of the blood off his face. Tucking half of the shirt into his waistband, he took a quick scout around for the other two – not really caring where Spike was. 

He found the two of them near a crypt about a hundred meters from where the vampire had fallen. Anya was kneeling over Xander, prodding him, a look of past-desperation on her face as she called his name. Oz jogged over to them, skidding to his knees for the final few steps. 

"What happened?" His calm exterior remained unnoticed to Anya, as did his question for a moment or two. He watched as her wide eyes slowly and unwillingly pulled away from Xanders' unconscious form. And the two bite-holes in his neck.

"The vampire came from nowhere…I, I was over there." Anya pointed over to a tree filled area, glancing into Oz's eyes. Guilt being a major feature in them, "He pushed me out of the way, and I hit a tree. I. Will he be all right? He got bit: he won't die will he?" Her voice raised a couple of notches with each word, and Oz fought the urge to stick his fingers in his ears. Instead he smiled gently at her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder,

"He'll be fine. Hospital?" He didn't have to wait long for her to nod vigorously, as soon as she did; he scooped Xander in his arms, wobbling slightly as he stood.

"You want a hand?" Her weak voice didn't go unnoticed by him, and he shook his head, thinking speech may wane him a little more. 

They walked in silence for a while; both lost in their own thoughts. Anya was drowning in guilt, and in concern for Xander. She kept flattening his hair and pressing on his wound, just trying to do anything that might make her feel better. None of it was working. 

Oz was concentrating on not dropping Xander, who was considerably bigger than himself, and thinking about his next call with Willow. He'd memorised the number for their hotel, and wasn't exactly looking forward to telling her that her best friend had been snack-food for a random vampire. Nor recounting how he had defeated it by himself. Too lost in each owns' inner turmoil, neither noticed the sets' of yellow glinting eyes that followed them as they left the cemetery.

The doctor was apathetic, knowing enough about Sunny Dale not to prey after more information than a 'big animal' that had bitten Xander. He had lost a lot of blood but it appeared that he was going to be fine, both Oz and Anya were relieved at that news. The doctor had asked after Oz, noticing the amount of blood he was covered in, but Oz waved it of, claiming it was Xanders' blood. Some of it probably was - coming from when Oz had carried him to the hospital, but he didn't have any wounds and didn't fancy a blood test that would just lead to questions with unbelievable and awkward answers. There's only so much a doctor will believe, and Oz had already stayed in a cage because of what he was: he wasn't keen on doing it again.  
Oz waited for the doctor to leave the room before turning back to his friends sleeping form.

Xander looked peaceful as he rested in the white-sheeted bed. Anya was napping at his side, his hand clasped in her own and her head resting against his arm. The smile that crossed Oz's face was instantaneous, he didn't know Anya that well, but he felt that he had been right when he told Xander she was a good choice. She obviously cared deeply for him; maybe even loved him. After Cordelia, Oz felt he deserved it. 

He trudged to the phone booth near the ward and dug deep in his pockets for some change. Gently clicking the money into the slot, he pulled the receiver to his ear and dialled the number. He sighed deeply as he heard a faint ringing, gently banging his head against the wall, his mind growled - _I'm gonna kill Spike._

Spike crashed into a random tombstone, smashing it with his bodyweight. He glanced down and was amazed to see that it wasn't in little pieces but bulked - the dead guys' name still readable. _Charles?! Who bloody calls their kid Charles?!_ Spike knew that he was a kid as his birth year was only 1982, barely an adult. 

He shook his head when he realised that his mind was wandering, and barely reacted to the kick the other vampire had aimed at him. Spike thrust his arms out as a foot came towards his stomach. He leapt to his feet, slamming his fist into the vampire that had attacked him. It didn't seem to be doing much good though; any attack he gave to this vampire, it just brushed it off and started on Spike all over again. It kind of pissed Spike off that some indistinguishable vampire was beating him: Spike: William the Bloody, the childe of the Scourge of Europe – _Well almost childe._ The twice Slayer killer. 

He smirked as a sudden thought entered his mind; _I guess there's nothing wrong with a little foul play._ Spike roared as he rammed his knee into the vampires' crotch, producing a cry from the latter. Spike indulged in a twisted, satisfied smile when he heard a painful bone crunching from its' nether-region. The vamp fell to the ground, in agony, but Spike slammed his foot into its face time after time. Enjoying the feel of its face crushing with each blow that he forced onto it; _it's not human,_ he thought sadistically as he felt blood trickle from his eyebrow, _but it feels bloody good!_ Spike watched as it squirmed around, _like a worm that had been cut in half,_ on the ground; feeling disgusted that it couldn't control itself. He shook his head at it as he crunched a thick boot on its' shoulder, "You know mate," He paused to grab its' arm and wrench it from the vampires' socket, "You're a bloody disgrace to the lot of us." Spike ignore the arm disintegrate, before thrusting the stake into its' dead heart.

"Cocky bastard." He muttered as he walked through the dust that littered the ground. "Thinking he stands a chance against The Big Bad. Pfft! Ponce." He put the stake back into the pocket of his worn leather duster, whilst using his free hand to delicately brush his nose, _Wanker! My nose is bleeding! _He looked back at the pile of dust and spat at it in disgust. He sniffed up the blood and continued walking back to his crypt. He briefly thought about checking on the Scoobies, but decided against it. _If they die, it's the Slayers own fault for leaving 'em here unprotected. I ain't a soddin' white hat. _

He sauntered off to his crypt, not noticing the three sets of eyes that were watching him.

"There's no Slayer."

"Interesting." The second voice held a more authoritative air than the first, more pronounced. "We shall proceed then. Annihilate them."

The thirds' eyes flickered towards its' master; his nervousness obvious to the elder. When faced with his masters' stare, he weakly voiced his concerns, "But sir, the Slayer _will_ return."

The elder vampire waved him off, "Yes, I know. Without her friends, she'll be an easy target. Focus on the wolf and the vampire; the humans will fall simply enough." The two vampires looked at each other with raised brows before leaving their master to his thoughts.

***

Back in Scotland…

Buffy may have had the stamina and strength of no other human on earth, but she had less patience than a five-year-old child on Christmas morning; the walk into the mountains had brought out her petulant child. Giles had given up listening to her and had even asked Willow if she could put a silencing spell on Buffy, to which she just increased her whining, and her volume. 

Willow was walking next to her, but had managed to block out her words, and was concentrating on the breath-taking scenery, and the taking of breath (which was getting harder the longer they walked). The green of the grass was so much more vibrant than back in California, and the mountains themselves were just beautiful. Each one had their own character, with their own little nooks and crannies, unique but the same. She could understand why it was a tourist town. The scenery would be enough to keep her here, and so far the people had been nothing but nice, _and it's not on top of a hell mouth, which is an added bonus._

She glanced over at Buffy, noticing that she had finally gone quiet; obviously noticing that no one was listening to her any more. She felt herself sigh as she shifted the small backpack Giles had insisted they bring with them for 'safety reasons'. She didn't know what he had put in them, but hers was a little heavier than she would have liked. She noted with annoyance that Buffy seemed to be bouncing with her pack, and inwardly grumbled. _Should have just loaded her up like a donkey… might have stopped her whining for so long. _

The rain seemed to have eased off for their trek into the hills, which was one thing Willow was grateful for. That was what quelled any thoughts of moving here: the weather. She'd spoken to a few of the locals that worked in the High Street shops, and they'd said that when the Scottish summers' sun showed its face, it was hotter than most foreign countries; but Willow couldn't help but doubt this tale. From what she'd seen of the highlands, it was rain and wind; and if she were going to live there, she didn't want to know what the winters' were like. Although, she thought a skiing trip would be nice: seeing as she was unable to tell what real snow was actually like.

She was snapped out of her reverie when Buffy called out to her. She glanced up, and was surprised not to see Giles' in front of her, she looked to her left and Buffy, also, was missing. Spinning a little, she saw the pair of them looking at her from about seven meters behind her. She offered them a sheepish smile before walking back towards them, mentally berating herself for not noticing, _No more mind babbles for me. Nope, nuh uh._

It turned out that they had to take a turn into some forestry land; of which Willow eyed with serious caution. It was quite dark in there, and Willow wasn't too keen on going in there. She sighed,_ Four years of fighting evil demons and I'm still afraid of the dark… And frogs._ She shuddered at the thought of frogs. She imagined their slimy little puffed up bodies sliding all over her skin, their sticky tongues slapping against her body, and their disturbing croak, and their bubble-chin and –

"Zone out?" She looked up at Buffy, who had an eyebrow raised in concern. Willow smiled softly at her best friend, touched by the obvious, but concerned question.

"Just a little." Willow was graced with a Buffy-smile, and watched for a moment before following Buffy and Giles into the forest. There was something about this trip that just didn't feel right. That could be because she had got used to the feeling back at the hotel far too quickly for her liking, and now anything that took her away from that made her feel incomplete. _Which is very wrong_. Yet, there was something about the atmosphere of the forest, it was dark – and not in the 'the suns' gone down' kind of dark, but an evil dark. She would trust Giles to the end of the earth, but he wasn't a wicca, he couldn't sense the dangers around here. She knew that she was just started out, but not even a newbie would miss the strength and power; it was all screaming at her, and not in a good way. 

As they made their way further into the woodland, Willow gathered her strengths: if this went the way she was expecting it to, they were going to need a whole lot of help.

-

-

"I really don't think this is a good idea." Tara ignored Sarah's words of concern, and continued packing her supplies into the small bag that usually held no more than her hat. 

"Come on Tara! You've hardly had enough time to rest up, and I, for one, do not wanna see you dead." Sarah stormed over to the door before Tara could get there and folded her arms, staring intently at the blonde. "You aren't leaving." She was forcing herself to be strong, she knew Tara was determined to finish this and get back home to San Ardo, but Sarah would rather wait until both of them were ready to kick some evil ass than storm off unprepared and end up dead. _Which is what Tara is trying to do right now._

The blonde wouldn't look at her, too ashamed or too scared of being talked out of it to actually look Sarah in the eye. She didn't want to be in Scotland anymore, she had been getting better; getting over it; getting over Willow – but this ambience was too much of a reminder, it was too hard for her to control her feelings with it being so close. She knew it could only mean that Willow was here, in the same hotel, and she couldn't ignore that fact anymore. She had left Sunny Dale for one reason, to let Willow live, have a life with the one she loved. Most of her reasons were selfish, she wanted Willow to be happy – she wanted to be near her but she knew that could bring Willow down; make her feel guilt – and Tara didn't want that. Tara wanted Willow to be happy; selfish as it was she would do whatever it took for the redhead to be happy. If that meant her getting out of Scotland as soon as possible, then that was what she'd do. Even if it had the possibility of death. 

Tara continued to look at the carpet as she gathered her inner strength; Sarah could be quite persuasive and, forceful when she wanted to be.   
Without taking her eyes off of the floor, she whispered "Look Sarah, I'm, I'm g-going to the hill." Somewhere from inside of her, she found her strength and looked the brunette straight in the eyes. She smiled softly at Sarah, "I need to finish this. Now."

Authors Note: Right, so it hangs somewhat… I got stuck ok K anyway, if anyone would like to help me out - omg please do so, 


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